


Accidentally on Purpose

by strawberrymilano



Category: The Losers (2010)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Accidental Stimulation, Attempted Seduction, Awkward Boners, Canon-Typical Violence, Communication Failure, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Wall Sex, Which turns into not-so-accidental accidental stimulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2014-09-23
Packaged: 2018-02-18 12:11:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2348015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberrymilano/pseuds/strawberrymilano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cougar accidentally finds out Jensen gets aroused really easily. He gets curious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Accidentally on Purpose

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Случайно специально](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3599412) by [ShotaLouch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShotaLouch/pseuds/ShotaLouch)



The first time it happens, it takes Cougar a good five minutes to notice.

The team is playing poker around a tiny table in one of downtown Dhaka’s seedy bars, waiting for Clay to make contact with a source and report back. Roque has a bad hand and a worse poker face to his left. Looks like Pooch on the right might fold with the way he’s chewing his lip. And Jensen is right across from him, grinning, which could mean anything.

It’s comfortable in here even though it’s crowded and cramped. The lights are dim but warm, and there’s English and Bengali chatter humming under the clink of beer bottles and the dulled noise from the futbol game on TV. Roque is squished against the back wall, the people at the table behind them keep knocking elbows with Pooch, and Jensen’s got the standing bar crowd almost pressed up against his back, but it’s comfortable. Cougar has his feet propped up on the edge of the seat in between Jensen’s knees, leaning back against the corner of the room with his hat tipped down, watching everything.

“I fold,” announces Pooch. He throws his cards down on the table and sits back to sip at his beer as Cougar silently ups the ante by fifty. “Cougar’s just gonna win anyway. Why do we even try to play poker anymore?”

“Cougar doesn’t win every time,” snaps Roque. He tosses the ante in. “Call.”

“He might not win every hand, but he almost always takes the pot home,” says Pooch. “Right, Jensen? Give us the stats.”

“Well,” Jensen says grandly as he flips in his upped ante. “Even though our Cougs here only wins an average of every third hand, he has a higher concentration of wins near the end of the night, calculated as a seventy two point three percent increase. That way, we all get drunk and start playing like shit, and Cougs gets to take all of our cash home. Huh, Cougs?”

Cougar tips his hat a bit and curls up the corner of his mouth. “Show.” He lays out four aces on the table.

Pooch whistles. “Glad I folded already! Whatcha got, Roque?”

Roque grudgingly lays out two jacks. “Good, but not good enough to win.” He sits back and grabs his beer.

Jensen is still grinning, and Cougar can feel his knees jumping up and down with excitement. Cougar suddenly has a bad feeling.

Sure enough, Jensen lays down a spades flush. “Hah!” He bursts out excitedly, throwing a fist up in the air and standing halfway out of his seat. He accidentally smacks someone behind him, and the hit ripples through the crowd.

Pooch snorts and shoves the pot in his direction. “Sit down, man – ”

A local that’s crowded against their table shoves at Jensen and grabs his collar, yelling at him in Bengali.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Jensen stammers, raising up his hands. “Sorry, dude.” Roque rolls his eyes and starts sharpening his knife under the table for something to do, and Pooch is trying not to laugh.

The big group in front of him starts grumbling because they’re trying to listen to the futbol announcer on the TV going over recent player injuries before the second half starts, but the guy hasn’t stopped yelling. The bartender comes over, cutting through the crowd. “What’s happening in my bar? Avi!” He barks. He tears the local guy’s hand off of Jensen’s shirt and spits angry Bengali at the yelling man, whose name is apparently Avi.

Jensen says hurriedly, “Sorry, uh, I don’t speak Bengali and it looks like he doesn’t speak English, so, uh, would you tell him I’m sorry? Won’t do it again, cross my heart and hope to die?” The bartender rolls his eyes and translates.

Avi glares at Jensen for a second. Then he mutters something to the bartender.

“Careful,” the bartender snaps at Jensen. “Move, closer in to the wall, yes? Give the crowd more room. More people are coming for the game soon. If you make any more problems, I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

“Sure,” Jensen says. They can’t afford to make a scene here. They’re still waiting for Clay. “No problem.” The bartender shoves Avi away to the other side of the bar, and Jensen finally sits back down. He scoots his chair in until his abs are crunched up against the edge of the table. Cougar’s feet are still propped up on the edge of the chair between Jensen’s legs, and he feels the short, stuttering shifts of the chair legs as Jensen scoots closer towards him.

Cougar shakes his head and hides a smile. “My deal,” he says.

Pooch tosses him the deck. “Yo, Cougar, maybe you do have that evil plan thing with waiting until the end of the night for our money, and that’s fine, that’s strategy, but you better not be stacking the deck.”

Cougar shuffles and holds out the deck to Pooch. “Cut,” he says.

Pooch cuts it with a grin. “All right, let’s get this show on the road.”

Cougar methodically deals out a five-card draw. Right in the middle of dealing, the bar door opens and at least twenty more people stuff themselves inside. They’re mostly already drunk and yelling about the national futbol game that’s about to start up again.

“Aw man,” Jensen complains as he’s bumped and pushed around by a loud, excited crowd. “How can this bar possibly let this many people in without being a fire hazard? Seriously, like, maybe we should start a fire just to prove a point.”

Pooch and Roque sigh, but they scoot the table in to give Jensen some more room to shuffle in towards the wall. He still gets buffeted around by the throng, almost constantly bumping up against Cougar’s boots with the V of his legs, but at least it’s not bad enough to make his glasses almost fly off his nose.

Cougar picks his hand up off the table. He’s got two threes and an ace, but that’s it. He darts his eyes around, looking for the others’ reactions. Roque looks a little bored, but not angry, so he’s probably got a so-so hand. Pooch is smiling a little bit, he’s got to have a good one. And Jensen –

Jensen looks uncomfortable.

He’s blinking too much and twitching around, he’s not looking at his cards, and he’s squirming in his chair. There’s even a little bit of a blush high on his cheeks.

Cougar frowns. Jensen isn’t uncomfortable like this when they play poker. He always grins at his hand, it doesn’t matter if they’re stateside or in the middle of a desert storm. Cougar doesn’t think he’s seen Jensen like this in their whole tour together, and he has no idea what’s causing it.

Then Pooch accidentally knocks his knees into Cougar’s crossed legs when he’s trading in his bad cards for the luck of the draw, and Cougar’s feet jerk in Jensen’s lap.

Jensen’s whole body stills.

Cougar narrows his eyes. Experimentally, casually, he shifts his heel again.

Jensen doesn’t seem to be breathing.

Interesting. Cougar watches Jensen watch the tabletop. Roque ups his ante with a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

Now it’s Jensen’s turn. Cougar doesn’t think he even knows it until Pooch smacks him on the shoulder and says, “Jensen, dude, call or fold?”

He starts and looks up wildly. “Uh, call? No, fold, I fold,” he says. Then he looks at his hand. “Wait – shit, no, uh, call.”

“Hell’s the matter with you?” asks Roque.

Jensen fake-laughs a little hysterically. “Nothing, what could possibly be – ” Cougar subtly presses his boot forward into Jensen’s boner while looking at his hand, making Jensen yelp. “ – wrong?”

Roque just raises an eyebrow. “I swear, he just gets weirder every year. Pooch?”

“Ante up, boys.” Pooch throws in a few extra chips. “I’ve got a good feeling about this round.”

The bar door swings open and Clay comes in. Cougar turns to look at him. No visible injuries.

Clay pushes his way up to their table, shouldering people out of his way, and slaps confidential papers right on top of their chips. “Right, Losers,” he says. “We got ourselves a major fuckup to unfuck.”

-

An hour later, Cougar is lying on a rooftop with his high-powered rifle watching the target through his scope.

He can’t stop thinking about how _sensitive_ Jensen is.

-

The second time, Cougar catches on a little quicker.

They’re in Belize, trekking through the deep forests to find the hideout where Pooch is being kept in captivity. Roque is at the front of the line, cutting through brush and vines to make a pathway while Jensen keeps on eye on Pooch’s tracker on his GPS and points the way.

“Okay, we’ve gotta go around this wetland,” Jensen says. “Head towards that old tree.”

“ _Which_ old tree?” Roque snaps. “There’s only a whole forest of them in front of me.”

“The one with the – ” Jensen stops in his tracks, staring up at the large branches. “Jaguar baring its teeth at us?”

Cougar whips his head around, and sure enough, he sees an angry jaguar thirty feet above them, ready to pounce.

“Shit,” swears Roque. “Clay?”

“Don’t make eye contact,” Clay urges. “Move slowly. Don’t give it the opportunity to jump down on your back. And don’t try to climb any trees.”

“What if it stalks us?” Jensen hisses. “It’s a stalking predator.”

“Cougar,” Clay says quietly. “You got any tranqs?”

Cougar nods, watching the jaguar’s tail twitch back and forth in irritation. It’s getting ready to attack.

“Might want to use a few,” Clay mutters.

Cougar bites on his knife to free up both his hands and slowly opens his case, drawing out three tranquilizer darts in his fist. “Ready.”

“Take it down if it starts following us.” Or attacks, Cougar fills in.

The team inches their way around the tree, facing the jaguar the whole time and trying not to make any sudden noises. It catalogues every movement they make with its sharp, yellow eyes. Cougar suddenly realizes that the only person without a weapon in his hands is Jensen. He’s only holding his GPS.

Right then, the jaguar silently leaps at Jensen.

“Fuck!” Jensen shouts, scrabbling backwards and cradling the GPS in his arms as it claws at his neck and shoulders. They fall over on the ground together into some tropical ground plants.

Cougar tears past Clay and jabs all three tranqs into the back of the jaguar’s neck.

It instantly slumps down on Jensen’s chest, completely unconscious.

Jensen is still breathing fast. His head drops back onto the forest floor grass and he pats the jaguar’s supine form in relief. “Good kitty.” He turns to look at Cougar. “Thanks, Cougs. You sure showed him which big cat is on top.”

Cougar nods and pushes the hundred and fifty pound deadweight cat off him so he can sit up. Blood is soaking through Jensen’s torn up shirt, and Cougar counts at least twenty deep scratches crisscrossing over his collarbones.

Cougar frowns. This needs to be treated immediately. “Med pack.”

Clay tosses him one and starts talking lowly to the side with Roque about their next move.

Cougar pulls out a towel and quickly mops up the blood before swiping rubbing alcohol over the cuts. Jensen hisses every time it touches the open wounds. They must be deeper than Cougar thought, because Jensen doesn’t usually grimace and hiss when he’s injured. He complains loudly and verbosely.

Cougar puts away alcohol and the cotton swabs and grabs the tape and bandages. “Lean forward.”

Jensen complies with a wince and no backtalk.

Layer after layer, Cougar carefully wraps a soft line of bandages around Jensen’s upper body. His hands brush against Jensen’s sensitive skin and his breath grazes the edge of Jensen’s neck as he leans in to wind it around Jensen’s back.

Cougar is dragging a bandage with his thumb around his ribs and over his nipple when Jensen sucks in a sudden gasp.

Cougar blinks and stops what he’s doing. “Okay?” he asks.

“F-fine,” Jensen says in a high voice.

Cougar nods, and keeps rolling the bandage to the other side of his chest. His thumb brushes over Jensen’s other nipple.

Jensen gulps with a click.

Cougar reaches around Jensen again, almost brushing cheeks with him, and grins where he can’t be seen.

Sensitive nipples. Hm.

Cougar may or may not go over Jensen’s nipples with the pad of his thumb a few more times before he moves on to taping.

Jensen jumps right up when it’s done, talking non-stop about all the different species of big cats versus jaguars and speed walking towards the hideout with an odd gait. Roque and Clay sigh but walk after him.

Cougar watches them go, still for a moment before he follows suit.

-

They find Pooch, tear apart the hideout, and trek back to the loading site with no more jaguar sightings. Jensen heals up in a couple weeks, finally taking off the bandages when they’re holed up in tents in the heart of Chile.

Jensen rolls out of his tent one chilly morning without a shirt, making a pot of crappy coffee over the fire when Cougar comes back from night watch.

While Jensen babbles about mountain air and how it makes everything taste better to a annoyed Roque, Cougar traces the thin, white scars on Jensen’s chest with his eyes, stopping at Jensen’s hardened pink nipples.

For one crazy moment, he wonders what kinds of sounds Jensen would make if he licked them.

-

The third time, Cougar knows right away.

The team is holed up in a safe house in Madrid for the night after a rough operation. Cougar is lying on his bed, reading his book. Jensen keeps restlessly turning over and over on his.

Cougar looks over and raises an eyebrow after an hour of listening to it.

“It’s nothing,” Jensen says. “Just can’t sleep. Too wired.”

Cougar hms.

“Don’t have any pills. Ran out last time,” Jensen says tiredly, rolling his face into his pillow.

Cougar huffs and saves his spot in his book. He sits up and rummages in his bag. Jensen turns his head at the noise.

“What’re you – ” Jensen says right before Cougar throws a med pack into his face. “Agh. Oh. Okay. Message received.” He rolls out of bed and shuffles to the bathroom.

“Hey,” he calls back to Cougar. “These labels are all in Spanish. Where did you even get these? I thought all the med packs we got were in English. D’you think maybe next time I could get mine in Russian or something? Is there some kind of form you have to fill out for them or did you just hold them up at gun point?”

Cougar huffs.

“Right, taking the pills now.” The sink turns on and off. Jensen comes back in the room, tossing the med pack in his direction. Cougar catches it. Jensen lays back down on the bed on his stomach, tossing his glasses on the bedside table.

Cougar goes back to his book.

It’s quiet again.

Which means when Jensen starts shifting around on his bed and whining under his breath, Cougar can’t help but notice.

He looks over. Jensen’s head is buried is his pillow, his whole body is tensed, and his ears are bright red. Cougar’s eyes linger on the tremble that runs down his spine.

Cougar’s eyes dart to the med pack and back again. Jensen must have taken the wrong pill.

Jensen’s hips jerk uncontrollably into the mattress, almost imperceptibly, before he goes into a full-body shiver.

Cougar looks away quickly and stares unseeingly at the pages in his book, but he can still hear Jensen’s quiet, hitched breaths.

This is going to be a long night.

-

Neither of them end up sleeping very well. It takes hours for the Viagra to wear off. And Cougar hears every tiny noise coming from across the room. He has exceptionally good ears.

He can’t help but recall all of those sounds later that week when Jensen happily and noisily scarfs down a piece of diner pie in Mobile, Alabama.

It’s very distracting.

-

The fourth time, Cougar is thinking about it before it happens.

They’re in Tokyo wearing business suits, crammed in a packed train car. There’s supposed to be a drug operation around here, and Jensen’s scanning for traces of hard drugs through what looks like a normal cell phone.

The train car is so full that people’s arms and bags are crushed against their bodies. The edges of the standing crowd almost fall onto the sitting crowd whenever the train changes tracks at seventy kilometers per hour. Cougar is pressed up right behind Jensen, and he can’t help but focus on the curve of Jensen’s neck as he looks down at the phone.

Cougar wonders what Jensen would do if he brushed his lips down his neck right now. They’re barely an inch away from Jensen’s skin, after all. His mouth waters a little bit, thinking about how it might feel.

The edge of Cougar’s hat scrapes against the back of Jensen’s head as the train jerks around a corner.

“Lo siento,” Cougar murmurs lowly into Jensen’s ear, huffing a breath across the delicate hairs standing at attention on his nape. Jensen’s shoulders tense, and Cougar can feel his knees buckle against his for a second.

“De nada,” Jensen says lightly. A little strained.

“Hmm,” Cougar hums. It ripples through Jensen, making him shiver a bit. “Find anything?”

Jensen is silent for a moment, probably completely gobsmacked, before he stutters out, “I, uh. Yeah, some traces of,” he pauses to take a deep breath. “Cocaine.”

“Bueno.”

“Yeah, uh, yup. Great. Cocaine. Whoo. Love finding trace amounts of it on the subway.” He laughs nervously.

The doors hiss open and the crowd pushes its way out.

Cougar falls back when the people behind him file out, and Jensen falls forward. It’s nearly roomy in here all of a sudden.

“Since we’ve got it, why don’t we just, uh, go meet up with the team before this place gets packed again? Whaddya say, Cougs?” Jensen hurries out the door and steps onto the station platform without an answer.

Cougar hides his eyes with the rim of his hat, smirking as he follows after him.

-

Later that day, Jensen insists that they take a stolen car instead of the train to get back to the meeting point. Says it’s faster. More efficient mode of travel. Jensen is blushing and looking off to the side when he says it.

Cougar raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t protest. He was kind of looking forward to the ride back, if he’s honest with himself.

He likes making Jensen squirm.

-

The fifth time, Cougar does it completely on purpose.

They’re back in the states, staying in the barracks and waiting for reassignment. Clay is speaking with superior officers in an undisclosed location, Pooch is meeting up with Jolene at the airport, and Cougar sent Roque to fix up their team’s humvee. It’s his fault it’s broken, anyway.

Cougar finds Jensen lying on his bunk, typing away at his laptop. “Mess?” he asks.

“Sure,” Jensen says, surprised. “I’m actually starving. Do you ever have those times when you’re so into something you forget to eat, but you don’t actually feel hungry until you’re distracted?”

Cougar shrugs, letting his gaze trail down Jensen’s body.

“Yeah, I’m going, I’m going.” Jensen shuts his screen and hops out of the bunk. “What time is it?”

“Twenty to five.”

Jensen whistles. “Damn, that’s early. The mess is barely open. Nice call, Cougs, we’ll be first in line.”

They walk over to the mess hall together. Jensen can’t seem to stop himself from commenting on everything that happens around him, like usual. Cougar can’t stop from smiling at what he says, like usual.

They pick up trays at the door and slide down the cafeteria line and get the first pick of everything.

“Cougar!” Jensen says excitedly when they pass the desserts. “Check it out! Chocolate mousse! You love chocolate mousse. Well, anything chocolate, anyway.” Jensen grabs the last one for him and puts it on his tray.

Cougar doesn’t tell Jensen that he already knew they had chocolate mousse today. He smiles. “Thanks.”

Jensen grins back. “De nada.”

Cougar is gonna fuck this man. So hard.

Jensen grabs his own dessert and they get drinks. They go sit down at an empty table together.

Jensen talks as Cougar eats. About the weather, about weathermen in general, about statistics and sensors, about submarines in World War II, about marine life that’s been affected by manmade crafts throughout the years, about Moby Dick. It’s pretty interesting, even though it mostly seems like completely random information. Cougar’s knows Jensen can soak up information like a sponge and never let it go.

He also knows that Jensen tends to use a lot of hand gestures when he’s explaining something.

Cougar carefully takes advantage of this, subtly sliding his chocolate mousse into just the right position.

When Jensen swings his hands in a wide arc to describe just how big whale harpoons were supposed to be, he accidentally smacks his hand into Cougar’s mousse.

It topples right onto the dirty table.

Jensen makes a strangled sound. “Oh god,” he says feebly. “Cougs. I am so sorry.”

Cougar plays up a long sigh, looking at the chocolate goop sitting sadly on the scummy tabletop. Then his eyes, completely by chance, of course, land on the smidgen of chocolate mousse on Jensen’s hand.

“Hmm.”

“What?” Jensen looks down and sees it. “ _Oh_.”

Cougar reaches across the table and grabs Jensen’s wrist, dragging it to his mouth. He laps up all traces of the mousse, chasing the chocolate taste. He finishes up with a lick up Jensen’s ring finger. Jensen looks dazed.

He drops Jensen’s wrist with a smirk. “I’m not licking it off the table.”

Cougar stands up, drops off his tray, and heads back to the barracks.

-

Cougar expects Jensen to come back to the barracks pretty soon, begging for it, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t show up until Clay and Roque are already back and getting ready for bed.

Cougar’s disappointed.

-

He tries a couple more subtle approaches, like looking over Jensen’s shoulder at his computer and pressing in when he’s explaining something technical, ‘accidentally’ straddling him at the shooting range, that kind of thing. He even walks around in just a towel after a shower. Jensen gets hot and bothered every single time.

Cougar is pretty sure it’s going to happen soon.

The only problem is, Jensen keeps deflecting, covering it up, and running away.

-

After a couple frustrating weeks of this shit, Cougar decides to go with the upfront approach. Maybe he’s being too subtle.

The Losers are in downtown Chicago, hiding out in an underground bunker that was made for nuclear war in the fifties. They’re under heavy fire from the Polish mob, but this bunker was built to defend. They’re just waiting for the mob to stew, run out of ammo, and jump the gun. And, possibly, for the police to show up because of noise complaints. It’s gonna take hours.

Lots of hurry up and wait, essentially. And none of them can leave the premises until this shoot-out is over, so Jensen can’t run away.

It’s an opportunity. Cougar takes it.

“Clay,” he says. Clay turns away from his maps and looks over at him. Roque, Pooch, and Jensen look over, too. It’s rare for Cougar to start off a conversation out of nowhere. “Gotta straighten something out.”

Clay’s eyes flicker over at Jensen – Cougar _knew_ Clay had an idea that something was going on – before he nods.

Cougar stands up and grabs the front of Jensen’s shirt, dragging him out of the main room and down the hall.

“What did I do – oh my god, if this is about the chocolate mousse or the ink stains – uh, maybe you didn’t know about the ink stains, but I digress – I’m really... sorry? Don’t kill me?”

Cougar turns them into the tiny barracks. He shuts and locks the door behind them. That makes Jensen shut up.

He slams Jensen up against the wall and crowds him.

Cougar’s hat falls off to the floor behind him, but he doesn’t even look.

Jensen has panic in his eyes. “Cougs?” He asks weakly.

Cougar attacks. He goes after Jensen’s lips, his collarbones, his neck. His hands flick over Jensen’s nipples, grip his waist, caress his hips, grab his ass. He grinds his hips down until Jensen’s as hard as a rock.

“ _Cougar_ – ” he gasps, blushing uncontrollably and squeezing his eyes shut. “ _What_ – ”

Cougar growls and grabs Jensen’s cock through his pants. “Look at me.”

Jensen’s eyes pop open, flicking over Cougar’s face. His pupils are blown to hell. Cougar likes that.

“I’m gonna suck you ‘til you come.”

Jensen’s eyes widen as far as they can go.

“And then I’m gonna fuck you,” Cougar says seriously. “’Til you can’t stand.”

Jensen lets out a strangled squeak.

“Any objections?”

Jensen snaps out of it and shakes his head frantically. “No, no, _nope_ , none, uh, please proceed?”

Cougar drops to his knees and frees Jensen’s hard cock from his pants. He licks his lips, grabs Jensen’s hips, and then takes it in whole.

“Oh, god,” Jensen moans and smacks his head back against the wall. “ _Fuck_ , Cougar – ”

It doesn’t take long. Well, there have been months of foreplay.

Jensen’s hips start to jerk wildly against Cougar’s hold, shoving Jensen’s cock deep into his throat. Jensen groans. It’s probably the sexiest thing Cougar’s ever heard.

Cougar hums around him, and the vibration tips Jensen over the edge.

“Aah, Cougs – ” He comes down Cougar’s throat with a cry. His knees buckle, and he slides down the wall until he’s loosely straddling Cougar’s knees.

“That,” He pants into Cougar’s neck. “Was.”

“Only the beginning,” Cougar says. He pulls out a condom and lube from his back pocket and tears off all their clothes piece by piece.

Jensen’s eyes widen when he sees them. “You – prepared for this?”

Cougar smirks. “I’ve been waiting to fuck you since Dhaka.”

Jensen is speechless. It’s a rare thing.

Cougar preps him with the lube as fast as he can, all the while biting into his collarbone and licking at his scars from the jaguar. Soon, he’s bucking up against three of Cougar’s fingers and gasping for breath, slowly getting hard again.

“Cougs, _now_ , I’m ready, seriously,” he pants. “Come on, _fuck me_ – ”

Cougar slips on the lubed condom, bites down on both their dog tags so they won’t bruise, and obliges. Jensen whines. He’s so hard he’s leaking.

“You’re mine,” Cougar snarls as he pounds into him.

“ _Fuck_ , yes,” Jensen says with his eyes half-lidded. “Follow you anywhere – ”

Cougar catches his mouth in a desperate, biting kiss and fucks him like crazy.

Jensen scratches at his back and can’t stop making little noises into the kiss, which just makes Cougar wilder. He’s not going to last much longer.

Cougar jacks Jensen off as he fucks into him, making him keen and arch his whole body. It only takes a few strokes before Jensen comes again, the shiver wracking his whole frame and pulsing around Cougar’s cock.

“Jensen – ” Cougar chokes out into his mouth as he finally comes.

They slump down to the floor still locked together, still panting. Cougar can feel Jensen’s heart pounding.

They’re quiet for a moment.

“Well, fuck,” Jensen says as he stares at the ceiling. “We have to do that, like, a million more times. At least.”

Cougar props himself up on his elbows and grins. “That’s the plan.” He leans down and kisses Jensen again, and this time it’s softer. Playful.

-

When they finally clean themselves up and head back to the rest of the Losers, Clay looks up from his maps and asks, “You two straight?”

“Straight?” Cougar smirks and answers, “No, sir.”

Jensen cracks up laughing.

The Losers all look pretty damn confused until Cougar rolls his eyes and shuts Jensen up with an open-mouthed kiss.


End file.
